


He's still trying to cry

by TheWordAlchemist



Series: Andrew Brooks used to be a cop [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Memories, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWordAlchemist/pseuds/TheWordAlchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes this is now going to a series of indeterminate length. upload schedule is whenever I feel like, because I'm lazy like that.</p>
    </blockquote>





	He's still trying to cry

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is now going to a series of indeterminate length. upload schedule is whenever I feel like, because I'm lazy like that.

Andy hit the floor with a thud and heard two of his ribs crack. It didn’t hurt. It was funny really, how much Andy missed pain, missed any sensation beyond just being aware that something touched him. He still reacted as though in pain, because to accept his unfeeling body would be to admit that he is less than human. And he _is_ human. He took a deep breath, and listened to the air whistling through his punctured lungs. There were six holes, each of them widening by the day: three from broken ribs, three from his low points in the beginning. That knife was last physical pain he felt after he died. Andy shook his head. No, those thoughts only lead to despair, and he had enough of that to last two lifetimes.

After a moment, he stood and looked around his little cell. The lilies looked good. His mother had long claimed the ones he kept in his old apartment, but the florist down the road sold exactly the breed she’d loved. “Just because I’m dead, doesn’t mean I can’t have a home,” Andy declared to no one in particular. Abbie had found his love of flowers a little odd and very endearing.

It was the autumn after she joined the Force, and Abbie entered the station looking irate and exhausted, trailing water with every squelching step. She sat at her desk, groaning at the pile in her in tray. Andy turned and smiled at her, offering to make her coffee. She flashed him a grateful smile that made his heart skip a beat. “No thanks. Right now I just need to get this done and find a place to stay.” Andy ignored his heart’s bizarre reaction and cocked his head to the side, posing a silent question. As perceptive as ever, Abbie explained that her apartment was flooded. Her waste of a landlord had failed to fix a leaking pipe and now her apartment would be unlivable for at least a week. “He’s not getting the week’s rent from me, that’s for sure.” Andy huffed in amusement and turned back to his work when an idea struck him, and an ensuing internal struggle.  _We’re friends. Doing a favour for a friend is perfectly normal. But what if she thinks I’m coming on to her? Of course she won’t, because I’m not. Besides, she needs a place to stay and what kind of friend would I be if I let her sleep in a dusty motel?_ Andy took a deep breath and turned back round. Abbie looked up from her desk. Her eyes, though bloodshot from lack of sleep, were as big and dark as ever. Andy thought he could spend weeks looking at… _drop that right now._ As casually as he could, Andy smiled. “You know, my roommate has gone backpacking across Australia for a few months. You could always stay at my place until your apartment is clean and stuff.” Abbie bit her bottom lip, obviously torn. Andy was about to turn back to his desk, assuming rejection, when she finally spoke. “Thanks Andy, I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.” Andy’s face split into a wide grin and Abbie responded with one of her amazingly open and honest smiles.

Two DUIs and a home invasion later, Andy fumbled with the half-broken lock on his door and let Abbie into the beige-walled, brown-carpeted front room. “These your roommates?” she asked, touching the leaves of one of the many potted plants that covered almost every available space. Andy gulped and licked his lips; he’d forgotten that the plants were weird. It had been so long since he’d had guests that he’d forgotten. “N-no, they’re mine.” Abbie raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, then smiled, obviously supressing a laugh. Andy tried his best not to show how small he felt and picked up her bag. “Alec’s room is just through here.” Abbie took her bag back and touched him on the shoulder, sending shivers down his spine. “The flowers are nice. I never figured you to be the gardening type.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage and told her about the flower shop.

Before long, they were most of the way through a bottle of wine and swapping childhood stories. Even through the wine-fog, Andy could see in Abbie a kindred spirit. “One time when I was six,” he said, slurring slightly, “I was meeting Alysha for the first time – my future sister-in-law – and I thought she was a fairy. She had the most amazing long neon pink nails and bright blonde hair; I thought she was magic or something. She laughed and laughed when I told her and ruffled my hair. Turns out those nails were sharper than they looked. I had a sore scalp for weeks! Alysha brought me cookies every day for a week to make up for it.” Abbie started giggling, even though the story wasn’t very funny. “And you look just like a Disney Princess.” The words were out before he could stop them. Abbie looked at him, a little startled. “Th-thank you. Maybe I should head to bed.” Andy stammered an apology. When she left, he hit his forehead with the back of his hand. _How could you be so stupid? Now she’ll think you’re creepy._

Andy’s head was blissfully clear the morning after, and when she gave Abbie a ride to the station, she seemed to have forgotten his little _faux pas_ the morning after. If she did remember, she was choosing to ignore it and Andy didn’t have the courage to ask.

 _It is time_. The voice shocked Andy out his reverie. _The horseman must rise tonight._ The voice was booming, grating, sibilant, everything that could make a soul quake and shiver. It was a voice that tolerated no argument, a voice that had become as familiar as the fly eggs sitting in Andy’s chest cavity. He fell to his knees and opened his mouth. The words he spoke were scarcely human. He felt a shiver run down his spine as the horseman stirred and rose.

With his work done, Andy curled up into a ball and tried again to cry.


End file.
